


Best Cast Party Ever

by kittensmctavish



Category: Crucible Cast Party - SNL Sketch, Hamilton - Miranda, Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live Sketches
Genre: (Implied Asexual Character Anyway), A Ton of Sprite, Asexual Character, F/M, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Making Out, Massage Train, Me Being Trash of the Thing, Show Shirts, vague writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 19:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12019428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: “Hey, SHUCK-LEBERRY FINN!”“What have I said about using that nickname?”“Save it for the bedroom?”





	Best Cast Party Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: my favorite bit from the whole video is when "Mrs. Donahue said we could do 'Rent' this year", and Cecily Strong IMMEDIATELY stops being turned on by blond!Lin-Manuel, and freaks out at the prospect of getting to do "Rent".
> 
> ANYWAY, I have overanalyzed this video to death and put in, like, every reference and detail I could think of, in order to bring you this fic. (This included pausing the video to get names from the back of the show shirt for all the SNL players.)
> 
> Started silly. Ended up being over 7000 words of what the fuck.
> 
> (If I'm missing tags, let me know.)
> 
> (Fuck you, Lin-Manuel, and your stupid blond wig and fake braces and pretty face.)
> 
> (I am trash.) ('crawls into trash bin')

You opened the door to the Shuck’s house, only to immediately get hit in the face with a bouquet of flowers.

“What the--?”

You looked in the direction from where the flowers had come flying.

“SHIT. Sorry sorry sorry!”

Leigh McGrath came running towards you, waving her hands frantically in a sort of apology.

“No worries, Leigh,” you said, bending down to pick up the bouquet. “I just figured you were really enthusiastic about the costumes and makeup for the show.” She giggled a bit.

“Nah—I mean, not that you didn’t do a good job,” Leigh said quickly. “You did. Totally. I just…”

“…needed to get your hands on Alex Bard’s hat?” you asked, eyes darting up to her head, upon which a pale yellow baseball cap was jauntily perched.

“Don’t judge me, it’s the only way I know how to flirt,” she hissed. You both glanced in the direction of the living room, where Alex Bard was standing, in his blue vest and swoopy swoopy hair. He seemed to sense eyes upon him, because he looked in your direction. Leigh smiled and waved shyly, before turning back towards you.

“You want I should do what with your flowers, Leigh?” you asked. “Put them in the coat room or something?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, her eyes slightly frantic. “Did that go over okay? I’m not coming off too strong with Alex, am I?”

“You’re positively nonchalant,” you assured her. She smiled. “Now, help me out. Where’s Shuck? I gotta give him shit about shit.”

“Dining room, I think.”

“Surrounded by groupies?”

“Um…he’s signing posters, I think?”

“That’s a yes. Excellent.”

With no further explanation, you walked into the living room, so you could cut through to the kitchen and then to the dining room. You passed Beth Benson, who was chatting to some overly tanned boys who’d been on crew for the show (and glancing down, you could see she was still in her character shoes, and you inwardly rolled your eyes, because she practically LIVED in those things). Blake McClure was dancing close to Mikey Mazarino, giving him the “come hither” look she’d reserved for her witchier moments as Abigail Williams. Melanie Bogin was wandering around, eyes roaming up and down the body every boy, sexual orientation be damned. Girl was thirsty, and no amount of Sprite was gonna quench that thirst.

Your train of thought and beeline to the dining room was interrupted by a hand to the face, knocking your glasses askew.

“FUCK!” Your exclamation was more startled than angry. You looked to your left, where the hand had come from. 

Emilie Boggis. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Emilie, if you’re gonna ‘Chicago’ dance, please be careful, and don’t break anything or anyone?”

“Sorry,” she said, eyes completely focused on Zachary Marcelli as she struck another Bob Fosse move. “All That Jazz” was currently playing (bless Cody and his varied musical tastes, the prick), so her choice of choreography wasn’t completely unwarranted. Still…jazz hands could be a dangerous thing.

“Did you leave the old lady makeup on on purpose?” you asked, just noticing the age lines you’d painstakingly drawn on her face hours ago. “Is that Zach’s kink?”

“I’m gonna find out,” Emilie said, never missing a beat. Girl had confidence, that was for sure.

“Okay, I gotta go give Cody shit, so…razzle dazzle on, lady.”

You left Emilie to her spirit fingers and made your way to the kitchen. No one was in there at the moment, but a bunch of unopened refreshments were stacked in a corner near the refrigerator. You made a mental note to find Mrs. Shuck and ask if she needed help. After you were done with her son, that is.

“Hey, SHUCK-LEBERRY FINN!” you exclaimed as you burst into the dining room. Sure enough, the blond idiot was surrounded by a bevy of girls with posters. The pen in his hand clattered on the table as he jumped at the sound of your bellow. He glared at you. You glared right back.

“What have I said about using that nickname?” he said.

“Save it for the bedroom?” you said.

Silent glaring for another few moments. Less a staring contest, more a “who’s gonna break first” contest.

He broke first (victory!), and smiled at you.

“Was wondering when you were gonna show your ugly face,” he said. “Party started a while ago; you’re late.”

“Would’ve been here sooner if SOMEBODY hadn’t made a HUGE GODDAMN MESS out of the makeup area,” you said, lightly whacking him on the head with Leigh’s flowers.

“Hey!” Cody exclaimed, adjusting his (stupid) hat. “Why do you think it was me?”

“I’ve been doing shows with you for four years, Cody, I KNOW it was you,” you said.

When Cody was left to do his stage makeup on his own, heaven fucking help you. Foundation smears all over the counters. Loose powder and blush dustings that always caught your sleeves or (even worse) the fabric of costumes. Eyeliner marks on the mirrors, with nothing to say about the inappropriate messages written in lipstick. Would it KILL the fucker to clean up after himself?

“Who got you flowers?” he asked, an air of casual curiosity in his voice.

“Trying to change the subject. Nice try.”

“I’m not trying to change the subject, I’m genuinely wondering,” he said. There were notes of sincerity to what he said…but you still caught the surreptitiousness. (Also something smacking of jealousy, but that seemed too ridiculous to even fathom.)

“They’re Leigh’s, from her parents,” you said. “I’m holding on to them for her. But that’s beside the point.”

“What is the point, then?” he asked, eyes wide with innocence. “That you scared all my fans away?” You glanced around the dining room. Sure enough, the gaggle of giggling girls had dissipated a short time after you’d confronted Cody.

“Why do they even ask you to sign the posters? You’re not even on them.” Well, the character of John Proctor WAS on there…but it was an illustration by a student artist, who seemed to draw more inspiration from Daniel Day-Lewis than Cody Shuck. Oops.

“It’s the thought that counts,” he said with a shrug. “It’s probably because I’m Mr. Triple Threat.”

You only BARELY held back what would have been a five-minute-long laughing fit.

At some point during rehearsals in last year’s spring show (“The Phantom of the Opera”…not the Lloyd Webber one, some actual play version with no musical numbers, because Broadway rules or whatever), the cast had been exchanging ridiculous braggadocio – stroking one’s egos to the point of self-parody. The concept of being a “triple threat” came up and was applied to Cody, giving him the new moniker of “Mr. Triple Threat”, and someone (Blake, if you remembered correctly), said “Yeah…because he can dance, sing, and FUCK.”

It had been the best fucking joke, and through the rest of the run of the show, it ALWAYS came up, sending everyone into hysterics pretty much every time. Cody had come to own it (despite having NEVER had sex, to your knowledge, for all the time you’d known him). It had been cute at first, but now it was just annoying.

“Okay, just for that…” You didn’t even finish your sentence. You just reached out and took his stupid Newsies hat (which yes, he HAD bought when his mom took him to see “Newsies” in New York, thank you very much).

“What the fuck?!” Cody said, holding his arms out in a “what did I do” gesture.

“You’re too cocky for your own good, Shuck-leberry,” you said, flipping the hat as you placed it on your head.

“Stop calling me that!” he nearly whined (“nearly” – Cody Shuck was “too manly” to whine…his words, not yours).

“One day, you WILL be cast as Huck in ‘Big River’,” you said, pointing your finger at him. “And that nickname will NEVER be more apt than in that moment. You will THANK me.”

“First of all, that is NEVER going to happen,” Cody said, standing up, “because fucking NO one appreciates ‘Big River’ as much as we do.” You shrugged in mild agreement; “Big River” was severely underrated. “And second of all—”

He reached for your head, to retrieve his hat. You were quick enough to duck under his outstretched arm and bolt for the other end of the dining room table.

“Nope, you’re not getting it back that easy, Shuck!” you declared as he gave chase.

“Give it back!” he said as the two of you came to a standstill, on opposite sides of the table.

“Mmm…I don’t think I will. Looks better on me, anyway.” You reached up to adjust the hat, purely to tease him. 

“That’s beside the point,” Cody said, staring daggers at you. “I WILL get my hat back from you.”

“Is that so? Well…how do I say this?...Cody, what’s the name of that one musical about a con artist?”

“Huh?” Cody sounded more confused than asking for an answer. You slammed your hands down on the table, making him jump.

“‘Catch Me If You Can’!” was your joyous cry as you moved one way to fake him out, before moving towards the other side of the table. Unfortunately, Cody seemed to know that trick too well, and caught you by the arm. Before he could retrieve his hat, you were able to quickly grab it with your free hand and tuck it behind your back as Cody backed you against the wall. 

“Caught you.”

That line would’ve been a lot more effective if it weren’t for the following factors:

A – Cody was just BARELY taller than you. By, like, half an inch.  
B – You’d practically grown up with this dork; this was just how your friendship worked.  
C – It was Cody Shuck. Unless he was in heavy stage makeup and a mask (like in “Phantom”) or covered in blood (like in “Sweeney”), the boy was as threatening and intimidating as a cinnamon roll.

“Now give me my hat back,” he said, just as low and “menacing” as his other statement. You leaned in close…very close…to his face.

“Make me,” you whispered. Cody chuckled and bit his lower lip, his braces glinting in the light.

“You’re in trouble now,” he said before he attacked.

And by “attacked”, you meant “used his free hand to start tickling your sides”.

You immediately bent over, trying not to break completely into hysterics. Despite being one of the most ticklish people ever, you managed to keep your grip on Cody’s hat and keep it away from him.

“You are the worst, Cody!” you managed to choke out between laughs. “The actual worst!”

“Give it up!”

“I hate you!”

“Moooom, Daaaaaad, stop fighting!”

Cody stopped his assault of your sides at the sound of the new voice. You quickly jumped away from him and jammed his hat back on your head as you looked at Beth.

“Cody, can we break out the show shirts?” she asked, pouting. “I was promised a show shirt.”

“Yeah, I’ll go get the box,” Cody said, making to move for the kitchen before halting. He turned to you, and took one of your hands in both of his.

“I’m really really sorry I made a mess of the makeup area and that you were late because of it,” he said with overwhelming sincerity. “It was unfair and immature, and you deserved better.” He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your hand. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can…and I do,” you said sweetly. “But you’re still not getting your hat back.”

“I regret kissing your hand,” Cody said, immediately dropping said hand.

“Show shirts, bitch!” you declared, placing a hand on top of your head, just in case Cody made a move for his hat. All he did was adjust his blazer and sweatshirt huffily before leaving the room. Beth watched him leave for a moment, before turning back to you with a glint in her eyes that you didn’t really like.

“Anything you wanna tell the troupe?” she asked.

“What? That Cody’s an asshole?” you said.

“He kissed your hand, come on!” she said, hitting the side of your arm.

“That’s just Cody being Cody,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I mean, how many times have you seen him use his ‘charm’ on his fan club when he’s signing their posters?”

“He’s never kissed anyone’s hand, though,” Beth said.

“You are really fucking adamant in your suggestion that there’s anything more than friendship between Cody and me, and I can’t figure out why.”

“I mean…if YOU’RE not gonna jump on that, I will,” Beth said with a shrug and a smirk. “Cody’s fine as hell; I’d sex him right tonight, if he’d let me.”

“MASSAGE TRAIN!” 

Blake’s voice echoed through the first floor.

“You in?” Beth asked, nodding her head towards the living room. “I got magic fingers.”

“Nah, I’m good,” you said. “I gotta give my brain a thorough deep cleansing.”

“Of anyone but you sexing Cody right tonight?”

“Of ANYONE sexing Cody right tonight—why are we still saying ‘sexing right tonight? No more saying ‘sexing right tonight, it’s grammatically offensive.”

“Pssh, whatevs,” Beth said as she pushed away from the frame of the door and made a dash for the living room, where show shirts and massage trains awaited.

You looked down at your hand, where Cody had kissed it. Granted, it wasn’t the first instance in your friendship where he’d done this. But Beth’s words were rattling around in your mind and you couldn’t help but think about it just a little too hard. Any other instance of Cody kissing someone – hand, cheek, lips, whatever – was always onstage. As part of a character. He was flirtatious as hell, but…rarely, if ever, physical about it (asides from winking and “come hither” stares).

It was probably just being comfortable enough with you to do that sort of thing. Knowing you wouldn’t make too much of it because you were friends and that was that.

Yeah. That had to be it.

Like Cody would ever have a crush on you.

…not that you wanted him to. Because you didn’t.

You were going to walk back into the living room when you noticed the refreshments table. Snacks and Sprite were running low. The stack of extra bags of pretzels and chips in the kitchen came back to you, so you retreated into the kitchen. You grabbed a bag of Rold Gold twists and a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos before opening the refrigerator to grab a new two-liter of Sprite.

“Oh, I’ll get that, dear.” You turned to see Cody’s mom.

“I don’t mind, Mrs. Shuck,” you said with a smile. She opened her mouth, as though to insist that she at least help. But then there was a flicker of lights turning off in the living room.

“Oh my god,” she grumbled, storming into the living room. You stifled laughter as the lights flipped back on and heard Mrs. Shuck kindly but sternly remind everyone to keep the lights on. By the time the chiding was over, pretzels, chips, and Sprite were replenished.

You heard someone call your name, and looked over at the couch. Massage train had commenced, and Blake was waving at you as Alex Bard massaged her shoulders (and Leigh was rubbing his shoulders, with the biggest smile on her face).

“Come get in on this bitch!” Blake said, waggling her fingers. “I got the magic touch!”

“In a little bit, ‘kay, Blake?” She nodded, before wincing and whispering to Alex that he was being too rough. Beth, meanwhile, walked by you with a bright orange show shirt and plopped herself behind Leigh. rubbing her hands together before giving Leigh’s shoulders a light squeeze.

Show shirt box must’ve been in the hallway leading to the front door, so you walked in that direction to grab one. You paused as you heard muffled crying coming from the small closet right next to the front door. You walked up to it and peered into the closet.

“…Emilie, you okay?” you asked. She was clutching her phone in white knuckles, her face a shade of pale and slight green.

“Mikey Mazarino was smoking a cigarette so I took a puff so he’d think I was cool and then I felt guilty and sick so I had to call my parents and tell them what happened and now I just feel sick and…” Her words broke off into crying, and she fell against the door slightly. You reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Do you need a ride home?” you asked. “Need help to the bathroom?”

“No…” Emilie cried.

“Want me to get you some Sprite? Settle your stomach?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay, I’ll be back in, like, ten seconds.”

It ended up being more like seven seconds, but you came back with a can of Sprite and a small napkinful of pretzels. Thank Christ the snacks were also nausea aids.

“Thanks,” Emilie said as she took a small sip of Sprite.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Think I just…needed to talk it out.” She wiped away a stray tear. “Like…my parents aren’t even really mad. A little disappointed, but…they said they still love me and…you know, they’re just glad I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” you said with a smile. “And I’m sure Mikey still thinks you’re cool. And maybe Zach, too.” She shrugged. “I can tell you for a fact that Cody thinks you’re cool. He calls you his ‘braces buddy’.” Cody and Emilie had the same orthodontist and occasionally ran into each other at appointments.

“Yeah but…I mean, I know what league I’m in, and I’m so not in the same league as Cody, like…no way.” She nibbled at a pretzel. “Besides, he, like, only has eyes for you, so…”

“What makes you say that?” you asked, wondering if there was something in this particular twelve-pack of Sprite that was making people think you and Cody were a thing.

“Well, have you seen the way he looks at you? Boy’s got, like, hearts in his eyes.”

“He looks at everyone like that,” you said. “He looked at his pumpkin spice latte like that before the show. Fuck, boy looked at STARBUCKS like that when he found out pumpkin spice lattes were back.”

“I mean, I guess, but…I don’t know, it seems extra genuine with you. I mean…I ship it.”

“Emilie, we’re just friends.”

“I still ship it. Fuck, I can think of, like, five other people who ship it.”

“Sure that was just a cigarette you were smoking?”

“Hey Emilie.”

You both turned at the sound of a new voice. It was Mikey Mazarino.

“Hey Mikey,” she said, spine straightening.

“So, I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Mikey said, shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, I mean…you know…whatever,” Emilie said with a small toss of her hair, placing a pretzel between her teeth (and probably cursing that they were the twisty pretzels and not the stick ones, because the stick ones would’ve made that move so much sexier).

With the two awkwardly flirting, you decided to take your leave. About halfway down the hall, you saw the show shirt box, tufts of orange fabric hanging over the sides. You bent down and ruffled through the shirts, checking the tags for one in your size. When you had success, you took it out and unfolded it. Pretty simple – “The Crucible” across the front, with the capital “T” in “The” in the shape of a cross (the student artist who’d designed the poster and title was SO proud of that). You flipped it over to the back, to the list of names of cast and crew. Eyes scanning over them, you finally found your name, nestled between a set of parentheses. Spelled correctly. (Cody had misspelled your name once; you’d never made him forget it).

You made your way back towards the living room to find Mrs. Shuck and ask her for a pair of scissors, but you paused when you saw Mr. Markos – one of the drama teachers from school. He was talking to Mrs. Shuck, and you dearly hoped he wasn’t trying to hit on her. (Though based on how nicely his ponytail was groomed, and that he was wearing what he often called his “good blazer”, this was probably the case.)

Watching your teacher flirt with your best friend’s mom was a whole bunch of fucking NOPE, so you made a beeline for the stairs. You knew where the scissors were; Mrs. Shuck wouldn’t mind.

It was something you did with every show shirt…and really, every t-shirt you owned. In general, most t-shirts always felt like they were choking you, so you usually cut the neckband and some of the rest of the top off. Not so much that the shirt would fall completely off your shoulders, a la Jennifer Beals in “Flashdance”. But enough to make you feel like you could breathe.

Mrs. Shuck, like pretty much every other mom you knew, kept some sewing materials in her bedroom upstairs. You could slip in, grab the scissors, snip snip snip, put them back, boom, done. No harm, no foul.

Except when you went to open the bedroom, the door handle wouldn’t budge. You tried again, thinking it was stuck. Either stuck or locked. You frowned and knocked on the door.

“Hello?”

You heard a muffled thud and soft padded footsteps before the door flung open.

“Sorry, Mrs. Shuck, we weren’t going anything, just watching th—oh.”

Melanie breathed your name almost as a sigh of relief, and from behind her, you could see Tyler Branch visibly relax. You stepped into the bedroom, turning on the lights as you did.

“We were just watching the show,” Melanie said, gesturing weakly at the TV. Sure enough, a grainy camera shot of “The Crucible” was paused on the screen. At one of those delightful times where every facial expression was regrettable.

“That’s cool,” you said. “Just grabbing something Mrs. Shuck needed,” you said, opening the drawer where you knew the sewing materials were.

“Cool,” Tyler said, fidgeting with his hat as you closed the drawer, having retrieved the scissors.

“Just…keep the door unlocked, okay?” you said to Melanie. “I mean…other people might wanna watch, too.”

“Yeah, no, totally, cool, yeah,” Melanie said. “We were…just gonna take a break anyway. Soon. After this scene.”

“Yeah,” Tyler piped in. “Maybe…get some pretzels.”

“Heck yeah. We love pretzels.”

“All right,” you said, giving them a thumbs-up. With that, you closed the door.

Well…Plan A was gone.

Meh. You could duck into Cody’s room really quick. He wasn’t gonna give a shit.

You closed the door to Cody’s room behind you and sat cross-legged on his bed, glancing around the room to see if he had any new Broadway posters. (“Wicked” and “South Pacific” were some old standbys, but the “Something Rotten” and “1776” ones were new to you.) You laid the shirt out flat on the bed in front of you, and held the scissors up to the neckband, loving it far enough away to get the extra room you needed. Pinching the fabric between your fingers at the starting point, you then picked up the shirt in order to better cut it, careful to keep the line straight, so you didn’t have random jags of fabric and a messy neckline.

You always started small, in case you decided you needed to cut more off. But the only way to judge if you needed to do that was putting the shirt on. So you stood up and lifted your sweater over your head, hearing something else fall on the floor as you did. You bent down to pick up Cody’s hat.

Oh yeah. You’d still been wearing that.

You set it down next to your sweater and pulled your show shirt over your head, then walked over to the full-length mirror hanging on Cody’s closet door. You inspected the neckline from the front, then the sides...okay, maybe also checking your own figure in the shirt.

“You know, if you’re gonna put on a show, maybe do that in public?”

You jumped at the sound of Cody’s voice.

“JESUS CHRIST,” you gasped, hand over your heart. “Fucking KNOCK, why don’t you!”

“Um…this is my room,” he said, pointing around. “I shouldn’t have to fucking knock.” You rolled your eyes, but as you finished your eye roll, you spotted his hat next to your sweater. You grabbed it quickly, before Cody could register that there’d been a moment when you hadn’t been wearing it.

“Had to fix my shirt,” you said cheekily as you placed the hat on your head. “How does it look?”

“Hideous. Especially that hat. You should just give it back to me.”

“Hey, I thought you said I looked better in your hat than you did.”

“I was wrong.”

“You know, if you’re THAT insecure about your hair, you’re wearing a HOODIE,” you said, reaching over and pulling the pink fabric over Cody’s head, which he immediately pulled right back down.

“What’s it gonna take for me to get my hat back?” he asked. You shrugged, sitting on his bed again, propping your back against the pillows. He chewed his lower lip for a moment in thought before his eyes lit up. “I could tell you what the spring show is.”

“…you know what the spring show is?” you said. He could be lying…but you were still curious.

“Maybe,” he said with a casual shrug, approaching you slowly. You quickly took the hat off your head and clenched it in your fists.

“Gonna have to be pretty good, then,” you said. Cody leaned down and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear before he whispered:

“Mrs. Donahue said we could do ‘Rent’ this year.”

You bent back slightly to look at Cody, uncrossing your legs to properly sit next to him.

“Really? ‘Rent’?” He shrugged. “…holy shit. ‘Rent’.” He nodded.

“I mean…nothing’s set in stone, apparently,” he said, sitting next to you. “But she’s not averse to that being a possibility.”

“Still…holy shit, ‘RENT’.”

“I know.”

Cody was laughing a bit at your enthusiasm

“That would be a BLAST to do makeup and costumes for,” you said, not noticing Cody’s smile falter a bit. “I mean…I would 90s all y’all up so much, like, oh my god.”

“Not gonna try out?” he asked, a little too casually.

“Come on, Cody, I’m not ‘Rent’ material. I’m not the ‘Rent’ type.”

“Jesus, you are always so fucking down on yourself.”

“Cody, come on. Look at me.” You gestured at your body. “I’m not…fricking Mimi or Maureen material. If anything, I’d be Mark’s mom.”

“A: you’re fucking gorgeous. I don’t know how many times I’ll need to tell you that,” Cody said, placing a hand on top of yours. “And B: I told you the spring show. May I please have my hat back now?” 

You glanced down briefly at his hand on top of yours before looking back up at him. He’d called you “fucking gorgeous”. And…maybe it was just what everyone was saying to you tonight about the two of you but…this attention was making you feel a bit…overexposed. As though he’d put you in a spotlight. And you didn’t know if you liked it. 

So, best to deflect.

“You know, you said that Mrs. Donahue said that we COULD do ‘Rent’ this year, not that we WOULD, so…I don’t think so,” you said, pulling your hands away (and, effectively, his hat). “Also, I think I know how you knew…it’s because Mr. Markos is totally crushing on your mom.”

Cody groaned.

“Please don’t.”

“What other explanation could there be for why he’s here? I mean…you gotta admit, it’s kinda weird that a teacher came to the Crucible cast party.”

“Just give me my fucking hat,” Cody said, reaching for it, but you backed away.

“Nope!”

“Give it back!”

“Nope!”

Cody reached out to your sides and began to tickle you for the second time that night. You refused to relinquish your grip on the hat, but moved it to one hand so you could try to push Cody away with the other one. You fell back on to the mattress, hand with the hat outstretched over the edge of the mattress, as Cody crouched over you, tickling you with no mercy whatsoever.

“You’re such an asshole!” you managed to say mid-laughter, neck craned away from him as you tried to get away from his tickling. You heard and felt him laugh as the tickling subsided slightly, for reason.

You moved your head to ask him “Oh, given up, have we”, not knowing exactly how he was positioned over you. Because as you turned your head, your lips brushed against his.

You froze. 

He sat up a bit, eyes wide.

…you two had just kissed.

Not that either of you meant for it to happen, but…you kissed.

You’d never kissed Cody before. In all the shows you’d done together, in the times you HAD been onstage, you’d never kissed him. Not like that, anyway. Sometimes on the hand, once on the cheek, but never a KISS. An actual, proper KISS.

You and Cody had just KISSED.

For some reason, your brain was stalling, and it couldn’t get past this fact. Because Cody was leaning down towards you again, and you couldn’t look away from him, and you were focused on his eyes and the look in them and the supposed “hearts” everyone saw in them when he looked at you and oh there they were and maybe they were right maybe there was something here because you lifted your head and met him halfway for your lips to meet again.

It was just a press of lips at first. Experimental. Not accidental this time. Testing waters you’d never thought to test. Your hand slackened, the hat falling to the floor, and you reached up to brush your fingers against his face.

Apparently taking this as some sort of signal, he broke away, sitting up. You sat up. He said your name. A question.

“Cody?” you asked right back.

“Is…is this okay?” he asked.

“I…I mean, I think…”

You could honestly not form proper thoughts right now because your whole world had just shifted. 

All could think of was to ask:

“Is it okay with you?”

Cody ran his tongue over his upper lip and teeth (and you didn’t know if he meant to or not, but that…that made you feel SOMETHING).

“Yeah…fuck yeah” was what he said as he moved in to kiss you again, his fingers splayed across your face, your hands moving to dive into his hair. 

Neither of you two really knew what you were doing (at least, you didn’t). You just knew that his braces would scratch against your lip and his hair was soft and his skin was warm he smelled REALLY fucking good (he always did) and he was laying you down on the bed ad you didn’t know what this made you now or what he was thinking or if it was anything close to what you were able to think but the only way to find out was to have him closer to you.

As soon as you seemed to think about getting him closer, Cody broke the kiss. Pulling away only a little. Staring down at you. He was breathing heavily, same as you. You wondered if his heart was pounding the same way that yours was.

“You have…no idea…how much I’ve wanted this.” His words were halting, and slightly hesitant, but utter sincerity. You couldn’t bring yourself to form words; that part of your brain would not cooperate. But Cody must have seen something in your eyes, or maybe you smiled, because he smiled down at you before he kissed you again.

It was an act becoming slowly familiar, and you could tell he was feeling more self-assured in his actions (the overconfident little fuck), as he settled his weight over you, almost pinning you to the bed. You wrapped your arms around his back to keep him there, keep him close while you figured this out. His lips broke away from your once again, but quickly descended on to your neck. You thought (were afraid) that this would tickle, but it didn’t. It just made you feel that same something new that kept building. That built every time he kissed your neck, as he moved down to kiss your exposed collarbone, your shoulder, probably never more grateful or appreciative of your cut t-shirts than this moment. And his hands kept…moving. Roaming the expanse of your body until daring to slip under your shirt. Again, something that should have tickled you and wasn’t tickling you. He laughed against your skin when you gasped, and his fingers grew bolder, inching towards your bra, lingering underneath your breasts.

And all you could do was feel. Feel so much.

Feel too much.

Way too much.

“Cody, get off,” you managed to whisper, feeling your body going rigid, the thrumming through your skin becoming increasingly unpleasant as it just…increased.

“I’m trying,” he laughed, not catching on, kissing your neck again.

“I’m not kidding, get off.” Your voice was stronger, eyes clenched shut as you inwardly bid your body to stop building this feeling. You felt him lift a little, saying your name. “Stop, Cody, please, fucking STOP!”

It was enough. He’d moved enough for you to get away from him and off the bed and press your forehead against the wall. You willed your body to stop trembling, that you wouldn’t start crying, that you hadn’t just fucked up your friendship because…fuck, losing Cody would kill you and it would hurt worse than anything ever, you realized, and fuck if that didn’t want to make you cry more. You breathed in deep through your nose, and let a shaky breath out through your mouth. Repeated. 

You were vaguely aware of Cody saying your name, your name growing louder as he approached…closer enough to worry, not close enough to touch. You kept breathing until you no longer felt shaking…you just felt sort of drained.

“I’m okay…I…I think I’m okay now,” you finally said. Cody’s fingers gently (hesitantly) brushed against yours, and you clutched on to them as he helped you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I’m…fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked everything up,” you began to say, but Cody interrupted.

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve known better, that you didn’t want me to—” 

“No, no, Cody.” You reached for his hand again, pulling him down to sit next to you. “Please…don’t blame yourself, I just…” You looked down. You didn’t know how to word it. How to fully explain.

“I felt…too much. Like…” Cody squeezed your hand. “Like every nerve was…on fire or something. Like, a good fire. But it…I don’t know, it was…like…sensory overload. Like…fuck, I don’t know, I thought I was gonna die from feeling so much, and I know that doesn’t make sense, but—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Cody said, squeezing your hand again. “Like…it wasn’t...was it because it was me?” You brought yourself to look up at him.

“No. I mean, I’ve never…with anyone. So…I mean, if it did have to happen, then…”

“Did you want it to happen? Like…with me?”

You squeezed his hand.

“It’s…honestly, it never occurred to me until it happened.” You held your hand up as though to defend yourself. “And that’s not against you, I’ve never thought about it happening with ANYONE. It’s just…something I’ve never thought about or…dreamed about or really…wanted.” You lowered your hand, resting it on top of your other hand, still joined with his. “But then…we kissed. Like…I hate to say it changed the way I saw you but…it did. And I thought that maybe I could and…” You blinked fast to bid tears away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was going to react like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, taking your other hand in his other one, running his thumb over the top of your hand. “Like…it was a first for me, too, so…”

“But you’ve…you said you wanted this, and I didn’t know that I did…I still don’t know if I do, I don’t…I mean, I wish I did, I—” You broke off, pulling your hands away and covering your face in frustration for a moment. “You should find someone who can want you like that, who won’t…freak out like I just did. Like…I don’t know, Blake or Beth, Beth said she’d sex you right tonight, so—”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Cody said. “Beth said she’d WHAT?”

“Sex you right tonight.” Cody looked utterly aghast. “Her words, not mine.”

“Oh my god.” He bent over laughing. And in spite of your pretty-much-a-breakdown, and the heavy feelings still present in the air, you had to laugh too. Because “sex you right tonight” was – and always would be – a ridiculous expression.

But then the laugher died. And the air was thick again…heavy. And Cody was looking at you like…like you were his whole world.

“I’ve just…I’ve wanted to kiss you for…so long.” Cody laughed, a little nervous. “I hadn’t really expected…more, but…and maybe I pushed my luck, but…” He looked at you. “I’m sorta crazy about you.” His eyes flickered down for a moment. “Nix the ‘sorta’. I’m completely crazy for you. If this was gonna happen, I wouldn’t want it to happen with anyone else but you, I want you to be my first and…maybe even my only because…it’s you. And…even if you never wanted to kiss me again, if even that was too much…I just…kinda want to be with you and don’t really care if we just…held hands and hugged and that was it. Just as long as it’s with you.”

Okay, now you wanted to cry, but in a good way. A really good way. You looked down and ran a hand through your hair.

“I mean…I don’t really know what I want. Like…when it comes to that. And…I may wanna try again, to see if I don’t freak out, to see if I can, to see if I like…anything. And I might freak out again, I don’t know. But…” You looked up at him. “I liked kissing you. I’m pretty okay with that, I think. And…if I am gonna try again, whenever that happens…I would only trust you with that. I would want it to be only you. Because…you’re the most important person in my life, Cody, and…friends, more than friends, whatever, I just want you in my life.”

At some point during your little speech, your hands had moved over to his and your fingers were in such a tangle now. But neither of you really cared.

“Will you go to prom with me? Cody asked.

“…Cody, prom’s not for another, like, six months,” you said, with a little laugh.

“Yeah, but…I feel like I have a shot with you, like, right now. And like hell I’m throwing that away.”

“You know I still probably would’ve said yes closer to prom even if this HADN’T happened and we were still just friends?”

“Yeah, but you like me right now, so…”

“Cody, I’m always gonna like you.”

“But are you gonna LIKE like me? Like…are you always going to like kissing me?”

In lieu of actually answering him, you took his face in your hands, leaned in, and kissed him. Like your first (actual, not accidental) kiss, just pressing your lips against his. Enjoying this new closeness.

“I like it so far,” you said. And his smile was everything as he covered your hands with his. You glanced down. “You know, it’s probably for the best that…nothing more happened. I mean…”

“Because of the party?” Cody said. “And Mom being in the house?”

“Well…that and that, but also…” You pointed at his shirt. “You’re wearing your ‘Godspell’ shirt. I mean…’leave room for Jesus’ or whatever.”

He stared at you for a moment. And then the two of you burst into laughter. He pretty much fell against you, he was laughing so hard.

“I cannot believe you said that,” he said, muffled by your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed.

“”No, don’t be, that was hilarious,” he said, picking his head up before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

He kissed your forehead.

“And that?”

“Yeah.”

He kissed you beneath your jaw.

“And that?”

“Cody, are you gonna ask me if I’m okay every time before you kiss me?”

“No, I just…” He pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t wanna freak you again like I did. I wanna know what’s okay and what’s not okay.”

“I mean…some of that, we’ll probably figure out as we go along. I’m okay now.” Cody nodded. “I mean…unless you get really eager to try again and, like badger me for—” 

“No, I won’t. I promise,” he said, taking your hand. “You can decide when.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I will wait. Like that one Mumford and Sons song.”

“’Little Lion Man’?”

“…sure.”

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” You leaned your cheek against his shoulder, and he rested his cheek against the top of your head.

“Maybe I should let Mrs. Donahue know about that petition,” Cody said. You lifted your head a bit.

“What?”

“Some of the cast started a petition – I think Emilie started it, but a ton of them signed it – anyway, it’s a petition that the spring show be ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ with me as Benedick and you as Beatrice,” Cody explained.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you said, pulling away from Cody.

“I overheard some of them talking about it at rehearsal one day. It’s a thing.”

“Oh my god…there’s something very meta about that, somehow.”

“Hmm?”

“Using a show where people matchmake their friends who snark at each other all the time…as a means of matchmaking their friends who snark at each other all the time.”

“Too bad we sorta beat them to the punch.”

You shrugged.

“I mean…if I were to act instead of doing costumes and makeup…” you said, “…I wouldn’t mind if it was that show.” Cody smiled at you. “I mean, I think I’d make a great Benedick.” 

“Peace,” Cody half-said, half-laughed. “I will stop your mouth.”

And of course, after that line, he kissed you.

Not that you minded all that much. Kissing Cody was…yeah, it was something you’d never expected to happen, or even thought of happening. But now that it was…it was pretty fucking good. Like, all of those clichés about hearing a chorus of angels singing or whatever…

“ENOUGH!”

The kiss broke as you and Cody look in the direction of the shout.

That had been ACTUAL singing. And Cody’s mom had had enough of it, apparently.

“Shit, we’d better get back,” Cody said.

“Yeah. probably.”

“…best cast party ever?”

“Best cast party ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you couldn't tell from all the vague-ery, it's heavily implied that reader!character is asexual, and possibly a little sex-repulsed (or at least, really uncomfortable with arousal).
> 
> This is partly me trying to parse through some of my own shit in regards to my own asexuality, and I did my best to write Cody as being a decent person when confronted with that.
> 
> So..."everybody comes, but nobody nuts". But in a different way.
> 
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr here: http://kittensmctavish.tumblr.com/
> 
> I remain trash.


End file.
